


An Attempt at Fixing the Future

by TerraCottaNightmare



Series: Reading The Books [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Canonically Abusive Dursleys, Characters reading the Harry Potter books, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Gen, I can't ship romione, Might be considered Dumbledore Bashing?, Nothing explicit, Probably crap, Reading the Books, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix It, sorry - Freeform, tagged just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7559200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraCottaNightmare/pseuds/TerraCottaNightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione goes into the past to try and fix the future for the better. Slight AU. Incorporation of head-canons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Minerva, Interrupted

Minerva McGonagall was hardly one to startle easily. In fact, in all of her years of teaching, only a small handful had ever managed to surprise her. The stern witch had handled generations upon generations of pranksters, hooligans, rebels, troublemakers and time wasters, to the point where she’d begun to watch closely-- often enough these traits ran in families, with scarcely any outliers (the Weasley twins being a prime example-- she shouldn’t have let her guard down just because their brothers were well behaved, what with the Prewett blood that ran through their veins). It had became something of a game for her to watch them try to one-up the unofficial records of the past.  
So when she’d seen the name ‘Potter’ on the list of incoming students, she had done nothing more than sigh and remind herself that, while difficult, his father had been intelligent and sometimes kind as well. However, while his outward appearance screamed ‘James’, his manners and attitude more resembled Lily, or even Remus. She’d relaxed slightly, hoping that he’d simply have a quiet, relatively uneventful run before moving on. And then he took on a full grown mountain troll.  
After that, his foolhardy moral compulsion to help others and natural curiosity had lead him, the youngest Weasley boy, and Miss Granger (who, also much like Remus, seemed to balance out the other two and kept them mostly out of harms way) into situations that would curl the hair of a lesser witch. Even so, they had yet to truly knock her flat; Harry was hardly the first Potter to attract danger and mischief.  
In the end, it was Miss Granger who finally managed it. The day had started normally enough-- in fact, it was downright uneventful. A slow, overcast day in mid February; the kind that made you want to curl up under a blanket with hot tea and a good book. McGonagall was in the middle of a lesson with the Third year Gryffindors. A loud crash cut the witch off mid-lecture. Turning as though to Apparate, she spun on her heel to figure out the source of the ruckus.  
There was a pile of debris where her blackboard had been. A large chunk of slate fell off the top as the pile shifted, the cause of the disturbance revealing itself with a low groan of pain.  
Somehow, a seventh year had wandered into her classroom and destroyed her blackboard without her noticing. Nostrils flared, McGonagall seemed to inflate with rage. The audacity--!  
“You there! Get up! What on earth were you thinking, you’d interrupt a lesson, cause such a scene and skip away scot-free? I assure you, you will lose points for thi-”  
Grabbing the girl’s arm-- as though not wearing a uniform would stop her from being recognized--the stern witch pulled her to her feet. Abruptly her words cut off. Staring up at her with a wan smile and tears in her eyes was a dusty, bedraggled, much older looking Hermione Granger.  
“Hullo, Professor, erm… What year is it?”  
McGonagall said nothing.  
“Right, er, let’s see…” The younger witch gently removed her left arm (which the professor dimly registered was wrapped wrist to elbow in faint green bandages) from the elder’s slackened grip, reaching for a small device around her neck. Her right reached into the small beaded bag at her side, from which she removed her wand. Murmuring quietly, she began tapping the small thing, which resembled a time turner in the same way a porcupine resembles a hedgehog-- similar, although the former was much larger.  
“1994. Well then, could’ve been worse. Sorry about your blackboard, Professor… I really must go though. I’ll explain everything later, I promise.” And with that, the curly haired teen calmly stepped out from behind the desk, through the rows of speechless Gryffindors and out the door.  
McGonagall blinked. Once, twice.  
“All of you, back to your common room until your next class.” Swiftly making her way out of the room, she sighed. Whatever this was was bound to be trouble.


	2. Mione Does Back to the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione sasses Dumbledore, amongst other things.

Carefully eyeing the curly haired seventh year over the top of his glasses, Dumbledore wondered if he was in the midst of a particularly vivid dream. After all, it was highly improbable, perhaps impossible, for anyone to travel back in time nearly four years; especially not a witch barely out of school.

Said witch was looking at him over the table, lips thin and eyebrows raised as if he was the one being difficult. “Look, sir, I’ve just come to explain the situation. Whether or not you believe me, I’ve done that. Now, if you please, I have a mission to complete--”

“Your ‘mission’ involves nearly obliterating the time stream. I understand that you’ve lost colleagues, Miss, ah…?”

She rolled her eyes, and the elderly wizard felt a sharp twinge of annoyance. “Granger. For the fifth  _ bloody _ time, my name is Hermione Granger. I really need to--”

“Oh yes, I do apologize. Anyway, I realize you’ve lost colleagues, Miss… ‘Granger’, but I can hardly allow you to do such a foolish thing. Besides that, I have absolutely no reason to believe your story, as you have no proof beyond your own word. Why shouldn’t I call on the Dementors to have you removed?”

“In our first year, you left the castle knowing full well that Quirrell was going to try for the Stone. You wanted to see if Harry could figure it out on his own. He nearly  _ died _ , under  _ your _ care, because you wanted an eleven year old boy to prove himself. I’d hardly classify that as _ wise _ , sir. As for allowing me, that’s where you’re mistaken. I didn’t come to ask for permission. I’m  _ telling _ you.

“I’m sorry, I really must be going. I have so much to prepare and it’s nearly lunchtime. Good afternoon, Professor.”

And with that, she left the old man to his stunned silence.

*************

The Great Hall was abuzz with chatter and speculation. Word had spread quickly about the girl who’d crushed McGonagall’s blackboard, and though that’s where the similarities seemed to end. Several dozen versions were floating about; some swore she’d had bat wings, while others claimed to have seen a third eye under her hair. One had even claimed that it as Sirius Black in disguise, though the general consensus agreed that that was incredibly unlikely.

Hermione was about to ask for the thirteenth time if that girl had looked familiar to Ron and Harry (Ron said no with more conviction each time she asked, while Harry just looked confused) when, speak of the devil, the girl pushed through the door. Everything went silent as she made her way up to the golden owl podium at the head of the room. Lupin went for his wand, ready to Stun her in case she turned out to be a threat.

“Alright, I know you all doubtlessly have questions. Please save them for later. I’ve got a headache and I want this to go smoothly. So! If I call your name, please come with me. I’ll explain why in a moment.”

She pulled a thick roll of parchment from her robes. From her vantage point at the Head table, McGonagall could see that it was what appeared to be a list of names segmented in various colors of ink.

“Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, the Weasleys, Neville Longbottom, Cedric Diggory, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy. Professors Snape, McGonagall, Lupin, and Hagrid as well please.”

Unsurprisingly, no one moved. Why should they trust some random witch? She could be dangerous!

“We’ll have to do this the hard way then. Oh well... “ She raised her wand, tapping the blue section of ink on her parchment and turning sharply as though to Apparate.

Very suddenly, each of the people whose name she’d called found themselves in a place that was decidedly NOT the Great Hall, falling a foot and a half onto flagstones as they no longer had benches to support them. Several of the students cursed. Looking around, Hermione noted the strange witch pacing in front of a stretch of empty wall. She trained her wand on the moving girl, forcing her hand not to tremble.

“W-who are you? Why’ve you brought us here?”

Turning, the girl smiled. In spite of the four wands (and large pink umbrella) currently aimed at her head, she was exceptionally calm. “I could hardly explain myself properly in front of the whole school.  _ Far _ too many questions, besides, they don’t need to know. I’ve come to set things right. I’ll explain more once I’ve gathered the others.” With that, she resumed pacing.

The girl’s words, while cryptic, calmed the little witch’s nerves. She found herself lowering her wand. It went right back up with a gasp a moment later; a massive oak door had melted from the rough stone of the previously blank wall.

The seventh year pushed open the handsomely polished door and slipped into the room beyond, waving the hesitant, confused group along with a smile. “The Room of Requirement,” she began, “A curious place that reveals itself only to those who direly need it. Believed to be installed by Hufflepuff herself.”

The room was magnificent; decorated with a mixture of the house colors, it was effectively a massive sitting room. A ring of comfortable looking couches and chairs (plus a beanbag or two) enclosed a large, low coffee table. Instead of electric lights or candles, there were a collection of small suns which drifted like leaves across the dark ceiling. Several doors lead off the main area, presumably to access bathrooms and such.

“Now, if everyone would take a seat.”

No one moved. The girl sighed. “Yeah, I figured as much. What do you want to know?”

Immediately the air was full of voices clamoring for recognition. The noise level was absurd. “Okay, this was a bloody terrible idea. OI!” The room quieted, looking on expectantly.

“I’ll go into more depth later, when we have everyone. I have a few more people to summon, and a friend of mine should be turning up soon with the rest-- he had a much longer trip. Anyway, my name is Hermione Granger. I’m from the future. I’ve come back in time to try and fix things, as there’s plenty to fix. I’ve brought you here so that we can read some books detailing Harry’s time at Hogwarts so that we can prevent some of the awful things that don’t have to happen. Now if you’ll excuse me.” The older Hermione turned away, scanning over her scroll. Her muttering was the only noise in the room.


	3. Someone Finally Explains What's Going On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some explanations, and get rid of a certain rat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Older Hermione is way too long to type out every single time, so she’s going to be Mione, while the younger one is Hermione to avoid confusion. Kay? Kay.

**Chapter 3: Someone Finally Explains What’s Going on**

 

While she knew that it would be highly unlikely for any of them to stick around if she didn’t explain soon, it was really the kind of thing she only wanted to explain once. Besides, then she wouldn’t be stuck proving herself more than once. Time travel was exhausting, and she didn’t want to add any more unnecessary talking to the list of things she still had to do.

The list of people she needed to grab was, at least, relatively short. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who immediately went to stand in front of their children. Tonks, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and Sirius (in dog form) who looked around, confused. The rest were… trickier, but then her friend was handling them. Hopefully they’d turn up soon.

“Okay, that should do it for now. I know that you’re all probably confused. I’ll try to cover as much as I can, there’ll be time for questions, don’t worry. So, like I said, I’m Hermione Granger from about four years in the future. About a year from now, something big happens, Voldemort comes back, and the second war starts. In my time, we won. But… at a price. We lost so many good people; so many innocent lives because we didn’t know what we were doing. At first Harry was going to come back, but he has his godson to look after. Besides, he’d never be able to keep quiet about some of the things that happen. So, we came up with a plan to save as many people as we could by reading the story of our years at Hogwarts. We’re going to start with our first year for a couple reasons; we have a few things that happened that are too important to summarize or skim over, for one. There are some details that, while supposedly insignificant, are vital later. Plus, there are certain things Harry neglected to tell anyone about his home life.”

Harry paled drastically at the curious stares he got at that statement.

“Now, there are two things we need to do before my friend gets here with the rest of the people we need. I need to prove that I am who I say I am, which we can do easily. Harry?”

The dark haired boy looked up from the dog (he thought it liked him) to look the apparent future version of one of his best friends. “Yes?”

“Ask me to to tell you something only Hermione would know.”

He was quiet for a moment, before finally settling on something. “First year with the troll. What really happened?”

She smiled. “Ron said something mean to me. I was in the loo crying when Quirrell ran in to announce the troll, and you remembered that I wouldn’t know about it. So instead of doing something sensible like, oh, telling a teacher or Prefect, you tried to find me yourselves. Then you locked it in the bathroom with me. You shoved your wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. That’s how we became friends.”

Harry smiled tentatively back, nodding to McGonagall in affirmation. Slowly, the professors lowered their wands (and umbrella), though obviously they weren’t convinced. The dog, which had been standing defensively in front of him, sat down with a huff, nudging Harry’s knee with his nose until he got the message and scratched him behind the ears.

“That brings me to the second thing I need to do. Ron, could I please see Scabbers for a moment?” At his hesitance, she smiled calmly. “I promise it won’t hurt him.”

He still didn’t look convinced, but diligently dug the rat out of his pocket. The dog’s head snapped up, a growl building in his throat as he shot back into his defensive pose in front of Harry, who startled and moved back, nearly tripping over a chair.

Mione shot him a baleful look. “Calm down, Padfoot. I’m doing it my way. In my time you spent half an hour spouting creepy, cryptic one liners that convinced us you were trying to kill Harry.” The dog snuffled, the noise sounding about as indignant as a dog could get. Lupin’s eyes widened, gazing at the dog in horror.

“Animagus Revelio,” Several things happened at once. Mione dropped the struggling rat. The dog snarled and pounced, prompting Lupin to Stun him. Ron yelled, upset at the perceived mistreatment of his pet. His pet that was rapidly growing in size, fur melting into flesh and fabric, until Peter Pettigrew was scrabbling around on the floor. Immediately almost all of the wands in the room were trained on the sputtering former rat, his platitudes and excuses falling on deaf ears.

Lupin was once again the one to Stun him. The poor man looked frazzled beyond belief, and no one could really blame him. After all, the reality of the last decade or so of his life had just been shattered. He looked from Mione to his two Stunned mates, confusion and despair and  _ exhaustion _ on his scarred face. She smiled at him, a wan, sad thing that screamed of shared pain. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder, strong and comforting.

“What the bloody HELL did you do to Scabbers?!” Ignoring his mother’s admonishment, Ron pushed forward, ears red. “Who was that bloke?”

“His name is Peter Pettigrew. I assume you know the official story. However, Sirius figured that him being the Potter’s Secret Keeper was too obvious and volunteered Peter for the job. They didn’t tell anyone about the switch, of course. Unfortunately, Peter had been a Death Eater for a while at that point, and he sold them out. Sirius took matters into his own hands and confronted him, where Peter cut off his finger and blew up the street before turning into a rat and scrambling down into the sewers, leaving Sirius with all the blame. Peter then decided to hide with a Wizarding family so he could keep up to date on what was going on with the Death Eaters and such.”

The room took a minute to absorb that. Lupin sat down heavily, dropping his head into his hands. Mione took the time to move into the middle of the circle, digging through the small bag at her side which seemed to be much larger on the inside. She placed seven books on the table, which ranged from one about the size of a journal to a few that could probably kill someone if it hit them the right way.

“I had a rather talented witch transcribe these from Harry’s memories. Yes, they’re all from his point of view. Yes, they’re completely accurate. Yes, most of you will probably have heart attacks when you find out about some of the things we’ve done and will do.”

There was a muffled ‘crack’ from the back of the room, similar to the one you’d get from Apparation. Seven people appeared, most stumbling and one even falling over. Mione turned with a grin.

“Took you long enough. Everyone accounted for?” The oldest of the new additions nodded. The others openly gaped at him.

“Great. I’ll explain a few things, and then we can get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand done! So Sirius is proven innocent (I’m sure he’ll regain consciousness eventually), Mione has proven herself, and they’ll start reading next chapter! Any guesses as to who her friend is? Here’s a hint; he’s a student, and he hasn’t spoken yet. Technically that’s two, but whatever. Who else is coming to read? Why do I insist on asking questions at the end of my stories? Find out next time!


	4. The Boy Who Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start reading, the Dursley's had an impact on Harry, and the author has finished posting for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Older Malfoy is Draco, younger is Malfoy. The older Sirius and Remus are Sirius and Lupin respectively, while the younger ones go by Siri and Remus. Younger Snape is Severus. This takes place before his and Lily’s falling out.

**Chapter 4: The Boy Who Lived**

 

“Wait a second! So when you said ‘a friend’, you meant bloody  _ Malfoy _ ?!” Ron’s entire face had gone a dark crimson. She might as well have suggested befriending Voldemort himself. Mione rolled her eyes and ignored him, double checking her list to ensure that, yes, everyone was there.

“ _ Malfoy _ , of all people!” 

The aforementioned blond rolled his eyes as well, scratching his left arm absentmindedly. “Give it a rest, Weasley. She can be friends with whoever she wants.” Aside, he muttered, “After the fit his older version threw when you tried to come back here alone, I’m starting to think he just enjoys yelling.”

Mione huffed, folding the list and elbowing Draco in the ribs. “People can change, Ron. Draco’s come a long way from his school days.”

Hermione frowned. While she couldn’t imagine being friends with the Malfoy from her time, the older one seemed at least civil, possibly even friendly. Malfoy sneered, annoyed at the mere thought of being friends with a Mud- (his cheek twitched where Granger had struck him) Muggleborn.

“Harry, can you BELIEVE this? Harry?” But Harry’s attention, along with many others in the room, was elsewhere. Specifically, it was focused on the people who Malfoy had been sent to bring. There were six of them, five boys and one girl. They all looked rather dazed.

“Right. Introductions, and then we’ll start reading. Hello!” Mione smiled at the dazed teens, who blinked and looked vaguely confused.

“Er, excuse me? Where are we, and who are you?” The boy who asked was about fifteen, with golden brown hair and amber eyes. Old scars lined his face and there was an air of exhaustion about him.

“We’re in the Room of Requirement, at Hogwarts. The year is 1994. You’re here to help improve the future. I’m Hermione Granger. Just really quick, would you mind telling everyone here who you are?”

“Um, sure? I’m Remus Lupin.”

“James Potter.”

“Why hello there! I’m Sirius Black.”

“Lily Evans.”

“Severus Snape.”

“Regulus Black.”

Lupin lifted his head from his hands to stare at his younger self, his friends and classmates. God, they were so young….

“Alright, everyone take a seat. Ah! Sirius is awake. Yes, we got rid of the rat, calm down. No one’s going to hurt Harry.” At some point, Pettigrew had been moved into a side room. Its door had promptly vanished. The dog, Sirius, relaxed and shifted into a man once more, prompting a gasp from the younger Marauders and Regulus (though he tried to cover it with a cough). 

Mione picked up the first book, the slimmest one by far. Ron glared harshly at Draco, who’d seated himself at her right. Harry awkwardly bundled himself into the space to her left. Noting the bandages, he resolved to ask her about them later. “I’ll read first then. Chapter One, ‘The Boy who Lived’.

**“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.”**

“Well they sound delightful.” George rolled his eyes.

Fred chuckled. “Positively  _ lovely _ .”

Mione smiled, eyes far away as she read on. **“Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.”**

“Funny, that sounds just like Tuney.” Lily mused. Severus nodded, looking slightly sour at the mere thought of Petunia Evans.

“I thought we were supposed to be reading about Harry.” Mione smiled at Ginny (the speaker). “We are, in a way. Give it a minute.”

**“The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.”**

“What, have they got a child locked up in a cupboard under the stairs?” muttered Regulus, prompting a miniscule grin from Severus and a subtle flinch from Harry.

**“They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.”**

“Why would they keep me a secret? I’m amazing!” James smirked. Lily rolled her eyes, looking disgusted. Harry was staring at them both like they’d hung the moon.

**“Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister,”**

Lily froze, looking green. If Mrs. Dursley was Tuney (and it almost certainly  _ was _ Tuney)….

“Sev, swear that you’ll Avada me if I ever even  _ consider  _ marrying Potter.”

James’ grin grew exponentially. “I get Evans! Did you hear it Padfoot?!”

Harry slumped back slightly in his seat. Did his parents… not like each other? Everyone said they got on, but maybe they were saying that to make him feel better. Maybe the years had made people forget that the two weren’t a fairy tale couple. And since when had his mom been friends with Professor Snape?!

**“But they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.”**

“That sounds like a compliment, to be honest,” A smirking James claimed.

“James isn’t good-for-nothing!” Siri and Remus looked thoroughly incensed.

Lily drooped slightly, clearly upset. She knew that there was a rift between her and Tuney, but to pretend that she didn’t exist? Years later, her sister still refused to speak to her? Severus wrapped a consoling arm around her shoulders.

**“The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him.”**

“So  _ they’re  _ your aunt and uncle?” Hermione asked. They sounded horrible, and she told Harry so when he nodded.

“Wait… So if the  _ Potters _ are Potter and me… Oh  _ ew! _ ” Lily’s face screwed up as if she’d smelled spoiled milk. Severus remained impassive, though a muscle in his jaw was twitching. Harry’s shoulders curled in further. His mother was disgusted by the thought of his existence.

Sirius placed a cautious hand on his shoulder, smiling slightly when he wasn’t rebuffed.

His voice was a rusty whisper when he spoke. “She loved you so, so much, Harry. She just doesn’t know it yet.” 

Mione smiled slightly. Sirius somehow managed to know exactly what Harry needed-- the right words, said discreetly enough that he wouldn’t be embarrassed by someone making a fuss.

**“This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.”**

“A child like  _ what _ , exactly?” Mrs. Weasley, who had been mostly quiet aside from reigning in her children, was genuinely confused. Harry had been nothing but polite and helpful whenever he was staying in her home, offering to help with housework and such.

“Magical, most likely. Tuney can’t stand magic. I imagine that’s why she’s still not talking to me.” Lily felt a pang of sadness in her gut. She’d hoped that as they grew up, Tuney might get over her grudge and they could be sisters again… clearly that wasn’t the case.

**“When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.”**

“Truly the most fascinating people on the planet.” muttered Fred. Those who heard him snickered.

The adults, however, sobered. Sirius and Lupin looked pained. It was  _ that _ day. Mione hastened to keep reading.

**“At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.”**

“What a brat!” grumbled Regulus. If he and Siri had ever even dreamed about acting like that, they’d’ve been Crucio’d for sure.

“Mum’d  _ kill _ us if we ever acted like that!” wondered Ron incredulously.

“For good reason. If they keep encouraging that kind of behavior, he’ll become a right menace, mark my words,” Mrs. Weasley frowned at the book.

**“He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar -- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen -- then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light.”**

“Was that you, professor?” McGonagall didn’t flinch, though several others did; apparently just about everyone had forgotten that Luna was there. The professor sent a small smile her way but didn’t respond.

**“Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive -- no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.”**

“Such a riveting tale.” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

**“But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.”**

“Not  _ cloaks! _ The horror! Moony, save me!” Siri threw himself dramatically onto Remus’ lap, only to be rolled off. He cried out in false anguish and lay there, dramatically “sobbing”, until James threatened to mess up his hair. He shot quickly back into his seat, ignoring stern looks from Mione and McGonagall.

**“Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt -- these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it.”**

“Why on earth aren’t they being more careful? Bloody hell, why do we even have the Statue of Secrecy if we’re just going to start running around in robes around Muggles anyway?” Tonks’ hair had gone red at the tips, frustration evident.

Harry and Hermione openly stared. “Y-your hair--” “You’re a Metamorphmagus! I read about them!”

Looking up, the pink haired Auror grinned at the stunned thirteen year olds. One brief explanation later, Tonks obligingly made her hair turn several different shades of red, grow to reach her back, shorten and curl before returning it to normal. Smiling, Mione kept reading, question forgotten.

**“The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills. Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.”**

“How do Muggles send each other letters then, if they don’t use owls?” Mr. Weasley gazed at Harry and Hermione curiously.

“I’ll explain when we’re done, sir.” Harry grinned at the enthusiastic wizard.

**“Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs”**

“Uncle Vernon? Walk somewhere? Is the world ending?” Harry gasped mockingly, eyes wide.

**“and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.”**

“Oooh, okay. That makes sense. Nevermind.”

The twins snickered, along with the Marauders, Sirius, and Lupin. Then James noticed who’d been speaking and nearly fell off his chair. “Bloody hell, who cloned me?”

Harry flushed and ducked his head. “We’ll do this after this chapter, alright?” Mione fixed a protesting James with a look that made McGonagall proud.

**“He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. "The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their son, Harry"”**

Tonks paled, understanding immediately. Though she’d only been seven when it’d happened, she’d grown up hearing the story of the Boy Who Lived. This must be the day that the Potters died… Poor Harry.

**“Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid.”**

“What else is new?” muttered Draco, who received a swift elbow to the ribs from Mione.

**“Potter wasn't such an unusual name.”**

“It’s not?” the purebloods looked confused. “It’s fairly common in the Muggle world.” explained Hermione.

**“ He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry.”**

“Bloody hell, he doesn’t even know his own nephew’s name?” Siri exclaimed, affronted.

**“He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.”**

The kids and Tonks laughed, the twins leaning on each other for support. Even Severus cracked what could be called a small smile. The Weasley parents shook their heads fondly.

“Ha-Harvey P-Potter, the Boy Who Lived!” sputtered George between chuckles.

“What kind of person would do that to their child? Bloody hell, I thought Sirius was bad!” Regulus covered his mouth hastily, having forgotten himself. Siri  _ definitely _ wouldn’t appreciate that kind of teasing anymore. To his shock, however, he and Remus both guffawed. Siri shot him a small smile. It seemed that he was willing to forgive, at least for now.

**“There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her -- if he'd had a sister like that…”**

“A sister like  _ what _ ?” Severus and Remus growled practically in unison. Lily looked up from where her gaze had settled in her lap to give them each a watery smile. Severus frowned, placing a comforting hand on hers. Neither noticed Harry’s open confusion, James’ hostile sneer, or Snape’s wistful look.

**“... but all the same, those people in cloaks... He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. "Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell.”**

“He apologized?!” a few of the kids chuckled, but stopped quickly when they realized he was completely serious. Mione broke the silence that followed by reading.

**“ It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak.”**

“The  _ nerve! _ ” Fred grinned.

**“He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!”**

“ _ WHAT?!”  _ the kids from the seventies looked ecstatic, cheering and shouting and hugging each other. Severus smiled slightly, accepting a hug from Lily, who looked like she might cry from relief.

Snape looked on with a quiet sneer, though it didn’t hold his usual contempt. McGonagall smiled, eyes misty. Sirius and Lupin looked away, unable to watch. Harry cringed. Even so, no one had the heart to tell them to stop.

**“Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"”**

“Statute of Secrecy?  _ What  _ Statute of Secrecy? Might as well run around in broad daylight turning lampposts into trees and whatnot….” The group tried their best to tune out the irate Auror, though several of the children were watching Tonks’ hair shift colors with interest.

**“And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.”**

“He  _ WHAT?! _ ” Hermione, McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley nearly shouted in unison, fuming. McGonagall's face was a dull red. Mrs. Weasley looked ready to shake down this Dursley, whoever he was. Was this the man Harry’d been forced to stay with for ten years? She didn’t know much about his home life, but the more she discovered the worse it all seemed.

Hermione was studying Harry critically. He studiously avoided her gaze, focusing instead on Tonks’ hair, which was shifting between a dark red and a sort of magenta. Mione, noting his tension and the numerous eyes fixed on him, opted to continue reading.

**“As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw -- and it didn't improve his mood -- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning.”**

“ _ Was  _ that you, Professor?” asked Neville, causing many people to flinch (Mione rolled her eyes. Evidently being quiet made you invisible in Hogwarts). McGonagall didn’t answer, instead smiling wanly at her student.

**“It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. "Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.”**

“That certainly  _ sounds  _ like you, Minerva.” Lupin shot McGonagall a tired grin, causing her to glare and Sirius to bark out a rusty laugh that sounded more like a cough. Mione frowned; that didn’t sound good. She nudged Draco, gesturing to Sirius and then the door opposite the main entrance. He nodded, getting up and exiting the main room.

**“Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered.”**

“Not really, no,” Hermione cut in.

“Like you’d know, your bloody cat just looks grumpy all the time!” Ron grumbled. Mione cut off Hermione’s retort before an argument could start.  
**“Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!").”**

“Honestly, no wonder she had trouble controlling him, she’s allowing him to get away with anything he wants!” Mrs. Weasley looked thoroughly unimpressed by Petunia’s parenting, and if Mione hadn’t headed her off she may have gone on for hours.

**“Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news.”**

“What’s the news?” Mr. Weasley asked, though he was hardly the only one who was curious.

“I’ll explain later, sir.” Harry nodded at Mione to continue.

**“"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?" "Well, Ted," said the weatherman,”**

“I bet that’s Dad!” Tonks’ hair was an excited electric green.

**“"I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars!”**

“Oh bloody-- that’ll be Dedalus then, why am I surprised, first calling Dursley a muggle and now this…” the green melted back into red, and Mione pressed on.

**“Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight." Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters... Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er -- Petunia, dear -- you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?" As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.”**

Lily tried to push back the tears welling in her eyes with little success. Severus wrapped her in a hug, glaring at the book as though it was Petunia.

**“"No," she said sharply. "Why?"**

**"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."**

**"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.**

**"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd." Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son -- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"**

**"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.**

**"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"**

**"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."**

“I happen to think it’s a wonderful name!”

Harry smiled weakly at Hermione, appreciating the support.

“Oi, my great-uncle was a Harry!” James grinned at Lily, though it faded when he saw she’d been crying. “Sorry Evans.”

**“"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."**

**He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.”**

Several people glanced at McGonagall.

**“Was he imagining things?** **Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of -- well, he didn't think he could bear it. The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind.... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on -- he yawned and turned over -- it couldn't affect them....**

**How very wrong he was. Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive.”**

“I still say that’s Minnie.” Siri interjected, leaning into James in a comfortable sprawl. Several others nodded. McGonagall said nothing, but a ghost of a smile was on her face.

**“It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.**

**A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.”**

Several of the more energetic students whooped and cheered. The more restrained ones rolled their eyes fondly. Mione frowned slightly.

**“Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."**

**He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.”**

Harry looked around the room suddenly. “Er, Hermione? The, um, older one I mean. Why hasn’t Professor Dumbledore joined us?”

Mione summoned a bookmark seemingly with a glance. Her hands gripped the small book as if to ground herself. “Dumbledore,” she began, “While he is an incredibly talented and intelligent man, is still a person who is subject to flaws and errors. Many of these will become apparent as the stories go on, but one of the major ones is his tendency to only aid those who need it when it will garner him respect and support. I’ll be honest-- he isn’t here because I feared he’d try and censor the books in an attempt to gloss over the fact that many of his plans had a real, human cost.

“Also, while I told him my plan to bring you all here, he offered to have me escorted to Azkaban by the Dementors. While he’s welcome to join us later, I’d rather take care of a few things first.” Aware that most of the room was staring at her like she was barmy, Mione went back to reading.

**“He clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement.**

**Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it. "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."”**

“I thought so!” Luna smiled pensively at McGonagall, who responded with a tight smile of her own.

**“He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.**

**"How did you know it was me?" she asked.**

**"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."**

Several of the assembled people chuckled knowingly.

**"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.**

**"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."”**

Lupin frowned. “‘Passed’? Didn’t he Apparate?”

No one had an answer.

**“Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news."**

Tonks gestured meaningfully at the book. “See?! McGonagall agrees with me!”

“No one’s  _ disagreeing _ with you either, Tonks. Breathe.” Charlie rolled his eyes at his former year mate. He caught the pillow she flung at him with ease, tossing it onto the couch beside him.

**“She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars.... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."**

**"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."**

“Six  _ years?” _ James howled, “Six more years of this boll-”

“ _ LANGUAGE,  _ Mr. Potter.” McGonagall glared at the rowdy teen, indicating the preteens when he attempted to protest. Harry flinched. Though not directed at him, it was scary to hear his name spoken like that.

**“"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads.””**

_ “THANK  _ you!” Tonks beamed at McGonagall, who gave her a fond half-smile in response*. 

**““People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"**

**"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. “**

The past students once again cheered, though this time the celebratory mood tapered off much faster. After all, they might finally find out how it happened.

**“"We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"**

**"A what?"**

**"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"**

**"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops.”**

Several people chuckled fondly. Oh, Dumbledore and his candies.

**“"As I said, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"**

**"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."”**

Almost everyone flinched, including Draco (though he tried to play it off).

**“Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.””**

More flinching.

**“"I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."**

**"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."”**

Mione tried to remain patient. After all, it wasn’t long ago that she herself had forgone the name entirely. Because of the taboo, sure, but still.

**“"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them."**

**"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."**

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?" It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now.”**

The past kids leaned in excitedly, clearly enraptured. Draco exited the side room and caught Sirius’ attention with a small gesture. The bedraggled man rose,slinking around the back of the group of chairs and exiting without fanfare. 

**“It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.**

**"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow.””**

James, Siri and Remus paled. 

“M-my parents-- they live in Godric’s Hollow!” James sputtered.

Harry glanced up. Obviously he’d never heard anything about either set of his grandparents. Any information he could get would be invaluable.

**““He went to find the Potters.””**

The past marauders hung on the edge of their seats. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were lovely people, and the idea of losing them was devastating.

**“The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are -- are -- that they're -- dead. "”**

Mione paused. No one was moving. The past marauders stayed in place, dangling on the edge of their seats. Severus was trembling. But no one moved. And no one spoke.

Remus’s head fell into his hands, tugging at his hair. James fell back in his chair, collapsing like a discarded puppet. Lily’s tearstained face was pale. She stared unblinking at through Mione.

Siri stood abruptly. “No. No, there’s no way. No way! James-- he’s--he can’t--NO!”

Mione glanced at the wall. A door appeared and she urged him towards it. The door slammed. Harry flinched hard.

**“Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."**

**Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.**

**Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry.””**

The past people’s heads shot up. Even Severus was a little concerned in spite of himself.

James rocketed back upright, once more on the edge of his chair. Lily trembled, fingers clinging white-knuckled to Severus’ sleeve.

**“”But -- he couldn't.””**

James crumpled once more, Lily’s fingers released and several people breathed a sigh of relief.

**““He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone.”**

**Dumbledore nodded glumly.**

**"It's -- it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"**

**"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."”**

Harry blinked. “But… that can’t be right. He told me why at the end of first year, after--” He cut himself off as Mione shook her head.

“Spoilers, Harry.” She grinned.

James glanced over. So that was Harry, eh? Made sense, the kid was pretty much a clone of his younger self, though rather skinny and much quieter than he himself had ever been.

**“Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it.”**

“Aw, professor! I didn’t know you cared so much!” James attempted to lighten the mood, flashing a grin at the stern witch. She raised an eyebrow, but was unable to keep a half-grin off her face.

**“It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"”**

Harry shot Hagrid a small grin

**“"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"**

**"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."”**

Snape suddenly froze. “Petunia Evans. You left him with…  _ Petunia Evans. _ ”

McGonagall frowned. “I didn’t exactly  _ want _ to! They were absolutely horrid--” Lily flinched “--but Albus insisted.”

Harry was shellshocked. Snape knew his aunt? Maybe because he was friends with his mum… But why would he be so vicious to him if he was friendly with his mum? And why did he suddenly care where he was left?

**“"You don't mean -- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"”**

Molly glared darkly at the book, grumbling about awful parents and horrid brats.

Harry grimaced slightly. Evidently Dudley had always been awful, then.

**“"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."”**

“A  _ letter _ ?” Hermione was incredulous. “He wrote-- a letter? Why not explain in person?”

Mione’s face was grim as she read on.

**“"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall.”**

Ron snickered. “Blimey, Hermione, you sound just like McGonagall!”

Hermione flushed, rather pleased. She knew he didn’t mean it as a compliment, but she chose to treat it as one-- after all, their teacher was a strong, intelligent and powerful witch. Why wouldn’t she want to act like her?

**“"Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future --””**

Harry groaned, slumping and covering his face. Thank Merlin no one had actually gone through with that. 

**““there will be books written about Harry -- every child in our world will know his name!"**

**"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"”**

Harry pulled his legs up into the armchair with him, resting his chin on his crossed arms. So Dumbledore had left him with the Dursleys… so he wouldn’t get a big head? Really?

He remembered how shocking it had been, people coming up to him and shaking his hand, mooning over him, the whispers in the hallways. He tried to imagine that every day for his whole childhood.

Shuddering, he supposed it was better that he hadn’t been exposed to that for too long. Still, he’d rather be gawped at everyday than live with the Dursleys. Surely there had to have been someone else who could’ve taken him in?

**“Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it.**

**"Hagrid's bringing him."**

**"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"”**

Harry frowned at the book. “I trust Hagrid! He can make mistakes sometimes, sure, but everyone does. He’s a great person.”

Hagrid flushed at the praise.

**““I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.**

**"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to -- what was that?"**

**A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

“Awesome!” James grinned. Siri, who had finally reemerged, looked starry-eyed.

“What’s a moto-cycle?” Harry assured Mr. Weasley that he’d explain later. Malfoy sneered, pretending he wasn’t also a tad curious.

**“If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.”**

Mione grinned. “A quick warning-- Harry can be rather…. Blunt when it comes to describing people. It’s likely that a few of your own descriptions will be brutally honest, my own included. However, remember that first impressions are always tricky and that he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Harry flushed, ducking his head. Blunt was probably an understatement.

**“"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"**

**"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me.””**

“Hells yeah!” Siri punched the air. McGonagall shot him a warning look.

**““I've got ‘im, sir."**

**"No problems, were there?"**

**"No, sir -- house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."**

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep.”**

Molly cooed, imagining a baby Harry. Said boy blushed.

**“Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.”**

Harry reflexively flattened down his bangs, attempting to sink down into the chair as several people glanced over.

**“"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.**

**"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."**

**"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"**

**"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give him here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with." Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.”**

Harry frowned. He’d never really thought about Dumbledore leaving him at the Dursley’s before. While he knew there was no way he could’ve known how the Dursleys would go on to treat him, it was hard to be okay with being left there.

**“"Could I -- could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

**"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"**

**"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Lily an' James dead -- an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"**

**"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.”**

“YOU LEFT HIM ON THE FRONT STEP?!” Molly was beside herself. “IT WAS  _ NOVEMBER! _ HE COULD’VE  _ DIED _ , HE COULD’VE GOTTEN  _ SICK _ , THEY COULD’VE  _ STEPPED ON HIM _ \--”

Harry was slowly but surely curling in on himself, eyes wide with fear. Hermione frowned, reaching out a comforting hand.

He flinched, whipping around to look at her before flushing. His grin was shaky but apologetic.

Mione subtly caught Molly’s attention, gesturing for her to stop screaming. Several people had scooted away from her. Siri and Regulus were incredibly uncomfortable. Molly reddened, apologizing hastily.

**“For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.**

**"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."**

**"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back.””**

Sirius emerged from the side room, freshly groomed and appearing slightly less haggard than he had previously. Evidently a shower and fresh robes had done wonders, though he was still thin and gaunt in comparison to even his younger self. He surreptitiously slid back into his chair, shooting Harry’s curled form a concerned glance.

**““G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, sir." Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.**

**"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.”**

Molly’s face was bright red and she looked about ready to spit fire. Though she refrained from yelling, those around her could hear her grumbling and ranting under her breath about infants and English weather.

**“"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone. A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles,** **nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…”**

Molly frowned. That was hardly a normal reaction to finding a child on one’s doorstep. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected Harry. It was hard to tell with his robes on, but she remembered just how scrawny he was, practically drowning in clothing far too large. The strange way he reacted to being told to eat his fill. More and more things were coming together and she didn’t like what the facts were telling her one bit.

**He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, what do you guys think of future Malfoy? I know he seems kind of out of character right now, but look at it this way-- this is a Malfoy who’s had a good few years of working to better himself and make amends. I promise to try my best to keep him as close to (a redeemed version of) our favorite snarky little shit. Thanks again for everyone’s continued support. If there’s any errors that I missed, please let me know-- I’ll do my best to fix them. I promise I’ll get the next chapter out much quicker. (Did anyone catch my Doctor who reference? It’s rather small but I couldn’t resist)
> 
> *It’s a personal headcanon of mine that, since she’s a metamorphmagus, Tonks would be a natural at Transfiguration, thus making her one of McGonagall’s unofficial favorites. No one can convince me otherwise. Teddy Lupin has three grandmas in my head-- Molly Weasley, Andromeda, and McGonagall.


End file.
